


Crush (With Eyeliner)

by WileyWendyMoore



Category: The Mighty Boosh RPF
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-02
Updated: 2015-06-02
Packaged: 2018-04-02 13:29:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4061761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WileyWendyMoore/pseuds/WileyWendyMoore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Noel has a "reflective" experience in his dressing room, post-live show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crush (With Eyeliner)

**Author's Note:**

> All characters copyright themselves. Author claims no connection with characters, or to represent characters. Title copyright REM, from song of the same name. Italics quoted from the film "Velvet Goldmine."

Our eyes lock the second I stumble through the dressing room door. A degenerate looking lad (or is it a lady?) rakes their fingers through long dark hair, grinning at me like a shark. I lean against the doorjamb, taking a luxurious swallow from the bottle in my hand and sliding down as the door clicks shut. I feel around above my head, lock the door. Now we're trapped in here together.

I drink again, watching him. He's a filthy mess, splayed out in smeared makeup and a dress that's hiked itself up around his thin waist. His chest rises and falls quickly, like he's been running. Or like he's terribly, terribly excited.

_Come closer. Don't be frightened. What's your name? Your favorite color? Song? Movie? Don't be nervous. Are you high?_

I twirled my fingers suggestively around the neck of the bottle, leaving it behind as I get on all fours and crawl towards him, his horny grin, his spread legs. His eyes widen as he watches me, my slow slinking makes him gasp, makes his semi-hardon jump under his neon orange pants. I kneel between his legs, reaching up to gently touch his shell-pink lower lip.

"Alright?" I whisper in fascination. His tongue barely prods at my finger, then licks, bolder, when I put a reassuring hand on his thigh. I stroke the surprisingly solid muscle there, the hair covering it dark and silky as the hair on his head. Oh god, he's right beautiful up close, all the sweat mingling with stage glitter and sparkling in the low light. He smiles, just a bit, lips baring gums as he teeths my finger. So I stick another in, and his lips close, sucking back and forth. His eyelids flutter shut, and I lose myself in the hot wetness around my fingers, squeezing hard on his thigh. I get so lost, I'm surprised when I feel a warm hand press to my crotch. I realize, I've had my eyes shut as well.

"Ohh," I moan, slipping my fingers from his mouth. We lean close to each other, our foreheads resting together. I trail my wet fingertips down his throat, down his damp chest. "You're well filthy, aren't you?" I toy with the hem of his dress, and he leans his cheek against my open mouth. "S'alright, I'm filthy too," I whisper against the stubble, perfect and scratchy on my lips. He claws softly at my pants; he's already got his off. I see no point in clothes anymore, so I undress him. It's like unwrapping a gift, I feel like it's Christmas morning and I've gotten everything I want.

Now he's naked except for his silver boots. He looks like a fallen angel. I want to tongue the raw spots left on his back where his wings were cruelly torn off, but I settle for the hollows of his collarbone. I lick rapidly at his salty slick skin, and he whimpers, his cock heavy and straining in my hand. Tangling my free hand in his sweaty hair, I run my thumb along his cheekbone, his broad jaw. "So sweet," I pant against his throat, feel his pulse throbbing against my lips. His head is thrown back and he's gasping with need, and a cry shudders out when I give his locks a good yank and press as close to him as I can.

Our chests are flat against each other, our torsos rubbing from throat to cock. Our hands press together, fingers laced, and he ruts hard against me, snarling.

"Come for me," I hiss. "Harder, you tart. You shameless little slut. Come all over yourself for Noely, come on, come on bitch, ahh, ahhhh-"

We come together, and he nearly doubles over with a shaky cry. My hand is covered in our mingled semen, and he watches me with a dark, sated expression as he licks every drop away. I lean in to kiss him softly, to taste us in his mouth. As I pull my dress back on, I give him a brilliant smile, and he grins back.

"Am I a good boy?"

"Darling, you're the greatest."


End file.
